Revenant
by Gilpin
Summary: With their own relationship seemingly over for good, Remus and Tonks come face to face with ghosts and memories of both past and present. Set during HBP.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: Definitely not JKR, just borrowing some of her characters for a day out._**

**_Notes: Revenant, in folklore, is a mythical, visible ghost, or animated corpse, that has returned from the grave to terrorize the living. The term is also used to describe someone who has returned after a long abscence. This was originally written for the All Hallows' Moon Jumble at Metamorfic Moon, where my prompts were mystery/suspense, day of regrets, Deluminator and a jolly picture of a graveyard in a woods. It's my first real go at mystery/suspense so any feedback is much appreciated as I didn't find it at all easy (though not helped by writing every other genre going with it, lol), and there will be another chapter after this. _**

**Revenant: Chapter One**

Darkness. Closing in fast and bringing with it stealthy grey mist as its companion for the night. The ground damp and sinking softly beneath his feet as he paused again to listen and stare into the gloom.

Still nothing. No one following or if they were then their Stealth and Tracking skills far surpassed his. They'd have presumably learnt theirs in a very different way, after all, and did years of necessity outweigh practice? Fear versus self-preservation? As it was, the trees were the only things which seemed interested in him. Bare branches reached out from the shadows, like withered arms seemingly asking for his attention or directing him.

Or were they warning him? It was the perfect night for ghosts, after all, and he had far too many to call on in case he needed reminding of the past.

"So why are we all sitting here, like a load of dozy old men with our pipes and slippers at the ready? It's Hallowe'en! We should be soaking up the heady atmosphere outside!" Easy to imagine Sirius smacking the table with his hand after already soaking up a few too many other things. Chivvying a bleary-eyed James into reluctant action, not even glancing at Peter who would follow anyway, and kicking, none too gently, at Remus' outstretched foot as he sat by the fire, momentarily lost in the warmth and colour of the flames.

"Never mind, Moony, it'll be even cosier to come back to after you've had your balls frozen off! Now come on!" A roar of laughter and, of course, he was rising to his feet in response, catching the cloak and gloves which were chucked at him across the table, half-heartedly cursing friends who couldn't resist breaking school rules. He'd always hated the cold, was tired and longing for bed, but there'd still been a wide grin inside at the thought of sharing this latest adventure with them. Of always being included with them.

It had turned into one of their worst ever detentions, he remembered. Everyone was always _careful_ at Hallowe'en, Minerva McGonagall had emphasised through lips that were thin, tight lines of barely suppressed fury. There was no need to positively invite trouble in with a welcoming hand unless you were a bunch of gormless, great Gryffindor idiots, now was there? It was a night things tended to happen, things you couldn't foresee, things of great _significance_, and with that final pronouncement those tight lips had clamped firmly together and she'd strode off. Leaving them with only their forced, rather uneasy laughter at her reaction, which seemed out of all proportion to the crime.

Years later, his eyes had met hers for a second as they'd stood together in the rain at James' and Lily's funeral. He wondered if she recalled her words to them all on that day.

An owl hooted somewhere up ahead and he wrapped this cloak a little tighter round him. No gloves this time, his only pair stolen shortly after arrival. No little luxuries he used to take so much for granted. No Sirius, either, several months dead and mourned, though there'd barely been time for that. Just regret and anger that a life once so vibrant, which had seemingly been given a miraculous second chance, and which therefore surely _must_ fulfil some of that brilliant, glowing potential, had ended in such a manner.

"The Blacks as a family are rubbish at compromising with events," Sirius had said, eyes hollow and dispirited, only days before he and the others had set out to save Harry at the Ministry. "We always fight things if we don't like them. It's all or nothing. Not like you, Moony. You always adjust accordingly and do things the reasonable way. That's why you're happier, I suppose. Because you want and ask for less."

Remus thought with the sort of humour that seemed all too common to him these days, and which wavered worryingly between black and bitter, that Sirius had given him far too much credit – you had to be reasonable when your choices were limited. Much as he told himself that he should have adjusted to the situation by now, that _she_ would be well over everything after months apart (with him topping the list of everything), each day seemed to do little except make him begrudge reason even more. There was nothing like a life spent watching the phases of the moon for teaching you about the passing of time.

Or dwelling on what might have been.

He took a last look over his shoulder and all around, wincing as the movement made pain shoot across his back. It was hardly the ideal condition to be in before tonight but hopefully Mad-Eye would have brought what he asked.

There was little point dwelling on that so he walked on, seeing the countryside as if for the first time, familiar and yet perceptively strange tonight. There seemed nothing random about that pile of leaves to his right or the mound of twisted brambles he'd just passed by. Had there always been this much moss, soft and velvet-like beneath his feet? Many times he'd walked this way and yet he'd never felt as he did now; as if he was walking into a role, into a drama, that had been assigned especially for him.

_Something knew he was coming. Something was waiting for him._

He told himself not to be ridiculous because obviously someone did and was – though why had he thought _something?_ – and concentrated on following the vague path, which was easy to miss. It was only his state of mind which made things seem out of the ordinary. The trees were more mature and thicker now, the mist gently flickering round the base of them. He put a hand out for the reassuring, solid touch of the iron gate, and muttered the charms to release both it and the protections he'd placed there earlier.

As always, he saw the grave first and then, alongside, the small, light grey building which represented so much. Looking like a Muggle chapel, though he had it on good authority it wasn't, nor ever had been. The trees were arranged rather anxiously behind, their tops dipping inwards and brushing together like an encircling cloak as though keen to protect it from the elements. Most of them looked to be beech and he thought he'd read somewhere that they symbolized understanding and preservation.

If only he had his books to see. But he should be grateful he hadn't. Personal belongings of any value were either something to be sold or something to be resented when they weren't yours. Better to remember that spies who refused to recognise their new circumstances as reality were doomed to failure.

Why was this so hard for him to grasp? Why did he still dream of impossibilities at night and carry them with him like a perpetual ache throughout the day?

He took a step forward towards the building and stopped. The breath caught in his throat even while his eyes and brain were still registering what he was seeing.

The figure was in dark shadow against the pale background of the stone. Leaning back against the wall; one hand thrust characteristically deep in a pocket, the other holding a wand in almost unnoticed readiness. A bulging, heavy looking bag on the floor. Everything as requested. All waiting for him.

Except the figure wasn't Mad-Eye.

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Tonks thought there was a lot to be said for just a simple, honest-to-goodness headstone in most cases, and definitely in this one. The ornate, rectangular stone monument was far too suggestive of an actual box, and the length of it was … well, just about the length she'd be if she lay down next to it.

Thanks a bunch, Isabella, she thought, walking round it again because simply standing still and waiting was much, much harder than pretending to do something constructive out here. Here being a night sensible witches would be snug by the fire with a glass of something warming in their hand, and that was before she'd even set eyes on those famous last words.

She bent down again, careful not to touch anything.

_Here lies Isabella Eleanor Moranna Montague-Lacey, died 31st October 1947 aged 19 years. Erected by Marius Black in anticipation of the day they will be together once more, beyond the boundaries and judgements set by mortal men and wizards. _

Death is a debt to nature due, which she has paid and so will you. 

Apart from it not being the cheeriest epitaph she'd ever seen, it was always a worry when somebody called Black had had a usually murky hand in these things. Tonks straightened up slowly, thinking that the bite in the air promised it was going to get extremely cold later on, and that she could think of at least one thing she and Marius had in common. Whether that boded well was another matter entirely, but possibly it was slightly reassuring.

After all, he was wasn't likely to have been blasted off the Black Family tapestry for behaving like a model family member, now was he?

And also reassuring was despite everything that might have suggested the contrary; she thought the grave itself was rather peaceful. Not unhappy. Nor unfriendly, or unwelcoming like others she'd seen. But try as she might, her main preoccupation during the last twenty minutes had been wondering just how friendly and welcoming her reception was going to be by someone else.

Two months was a long time not to see anyone. Especially after you were used to seeing them each day. Especially after the last time you saw him at an Order meeting he could barely look you in the face.

She walked back to the little building, which looked like a Muggle place of worship to her admittedly inexperienced eyes. It was a pity Arthur wasn't here, he'd have a million and one questions. She had quite a few herself. Remus' instructions for dismantling the protective enchantments hadn't mentioned this at all, and if she did yet another security sweep of the perimeter she'd know she really had turned into Mad-Eye. Especially as her eyes kept being drawn back to the silent trees and the strange scarring on their bark, which looked exactly like scorch marks from a wand. Which left only waiting and ignoring the fact that her heart was thudding just that bit too fast, and thinking about Isabella of the many names, that dubious wordsmith Marius Black and were those even more of his words carved in the stone arch above her head?

_Can't right my rights or right my wrongs, except in dreams where we belong._

Actually, that one Tonks felt she certainly could relate to.

She'd never dreamt as much as she did lately and they seemed to leave her utterly exhausted. Some kind of after effect of prolonged exposure to the Dementors, probably – there had been a Healer at work who'd given them a talk, suggesting a rotational shift system which had sounded good in theory and been totally impractical to enforce when there simply weren't enough Aurors to go round.

So it was back to the dreams and she had a recurring one. Of course, you could never find your wand in these things, though you knew damn well it was there. Your pockets had somehow turned into bottomless pits, your fingers into quivering jelly, and by recurring she meant … well, perhaps, once or twice a week.

Ever since Sirius had died, really.

What happened was that she was in a house. A nice house, one she liked - no, absolutely loved. Plenty of her favourite belongings and pictures strewn around (and if it really was going to be home one day, then she must decorate the bedroom in those wonderful coffee and cream shades. As well as find that wine-coloured rug she scrunched her bare toes into). The bed she woke up in was so comfortable, the thick duvet thrown back as though someone had just stepped out of it, and the imprint left behind was exactly his shape. She knew just how he'd be as well. Warm and rumpled like his pyjamas; creases in them and round his eyes. Smelling of softness and sleep and ... _him._

But he wasn't there right now and it appeared that the pair of them had lived there for some time without noticing the staircase at the end of the room. Or realising it even existed. Only once she became aware of it, seeing it each time suddenly out of the corner of her eye, she knew that she had to go up and investigate. The only thing which differed from dream to dream was whether she climbed it with the eager anticipation or cold dread.

She'd always wake up before she reached the final stair. Sometimes she'd catch a glimpse of the open door at the top, but never enough to see round and inside. And she always woke with either a huge sense of relief at not seeing what was through that door or overwhelming sadness at yet another opportunity gone by.

The symbolism to all this didn't take much working out. And it made a fairly pleasant interlude to the others about Sirius, Emmeline, Bellatrix and, oh yes, that glorious one with a stone-faced Remus telling her they had no future together, that he had no business ever thinking they had, and how he hoped she'd forgive him one day for his terrible temerity in ever laying an unsavoury finger on her. All this as she focused numbly on his long, shaking white hand and watched him walk out of her life. While Dumbledore said it was really a great shame he hadn't anticipated this and offered her a Sherbet Lemon.

She was never able to find her wand, or the words, to stop him in that one either. The one thing that the dreams had in common was that she was always reduced to being powerless in some way.

A wisp of a breeze passed through the brittle leaves on the nearest tree like a tiny sigh. She looked up and with no sense of surprise saw Remus stood watching her.

Coming here had been a test of herself in a way, a question she wanted answered, and that answer came immediately in the first breath of recognition.

"Wotcher." The mist seemed to catch hold of the word and bear it away through the trees.

"What are you doing here, Tonks?" His voice was quite expressionless. Like his face.

"You're the one who sent the request in for urgent assistance. I'm here to assist." She straightened up from the wall. _Fool_ that she was to think this would be any different.

"Which I sent to Dumbledore."

"Which he showed to me. I'm stationed at Hogwarts, remember? On the spot, as it were."

"Yes, but I asked for—" He stopped, staring at her, his eyes flickering up and down. Resting on her hair so that she had to resist the impulse to put a hand up to push it back self-consciously.

"What's the only colour I said I didn't like on you?" he asked abruptly.

"Wh-what?" She stared back at him indignantly as realisation belatedly dawned. "You think I'm a—"

"Please answer the question." Incredibly, those long fingers were actually tightening on his wand, the taut, white knuckles glinting at her.

"That very pale blue," she said, fighting the urge to lift her own wand and hurl the most painful hex she could think of at him. Telling herself he was absolutely right to be this cautious, and she should be as well, but fighting to hold the rising anger back because this was the last thing she needed, the last start she needed, and, _damn him_, it bloody hurt. "You said it reminded you of your gran and that rinse they kept giving her at the Talking Heads."

The hand relaxed. "Right. Sorry. I—"

"What's the very last thing you said to me before tonight?"

A pause. She could feel her own eyes boring into him and his shifted away from her, blinking a couple of times before he said softly, rather sadly, "That you were always my friend."

Another pause, longer this time, with Tonks' mouth very dry because they both knew it wasn't quite the last thing he'd said. "Friend," she repeated eventually, just as she'd done once before, though without the dumbstruck disbelief of that night.

He looked at her then, a swift upward glance. "It's a big word, Tonks."

She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything further. No need as it was hanging there in the air between them.

_There's bigger words than that, Remus, and you know it. You've said them._

He walked slowly, stiffly up to her and she couldn't think of a thing to say. His face was thin and drawn and the black cloak she remembered seemed to be far too big. He put his wand carefully away and she saw that the long, elegant hands were so white now they were colourless.

Ill hands. She remembered she'd thought not long after she met him that Remus' whole nature, his kindness, his thoughtful, considered ways towards others, was the very antitheses of everything this war stood for.

Except for once a month, he'd probably say. And that overrides everything else.

She moved towards the grave to give herself time, looking unseeingly at the inscription, and after a little while realised he was stood next to her. Shifting his stance uncomfortably to favour one leg.

"I did ask for Mad-Eye," he said quietly.

_"No_." She made herself speak matter-of-factly, to squash her emotions. "No. You said …if Mad-Eye was available. As it is, he's at the other end of the country. I, however, was ready, willing and more than able." She saw him start to speak again and said quickly, "Dumbledore sent for me, Remus. Possibly because it's to do with werewolves and let's face it, let's both admit it for once, I do have some _experience_ with them. And Dumbledore thought I was the best suited for this. Maybe you could work on getting the same idea through your thick skull. In the meantime, we can argue some more and shiver out here if you want to, and I'll smile sweetly and tell myself this is your way of manfully restraining your joy on seeing me. Or you can tell me what's up with your back and why you look as though you might lose a fight to the death with a Pygmy Puff."

The crease on his forehead had deepened as she spoke and she was sure he was going to argue in spite of her words. But then he glanced at her, his eyes clouded with some emotion she couldn't read, and shook his head slightly.

"All right. I am," he said and his lips twitched slightly.

"Am what?"

"Working on getting it through my thick skull. You know I have every confidence in your abilities. You know it's not that." He looked at her hesitantly for a few seconds, then, apparently making his mind up, his gaze moved intensely over her face as it always used to. Her heart beat faster, just as it always used to as well, but this time embarrassment and humiliation stabbed at her. Whispering the words he must be thinking: _She looks so plain, so drab, so mousy. What did I ever see in her?_

She felt the colour rising in her cheeks.

"Wands don't work here, by the way," he said. "I've tried but once you're through the gate, that's it."

"Oh." She frowned. "That's not very reassuring?"

"No. I'm afraid not many things are around here." He was staring at her hair again. "How- how are you, Tonks? I mean," he added hastily, "I know I've no right to ask but—"

"I'm fine. I face Dementors most days, you know. There's a lot of them very keen to spend time round Hogwarts. Constantly trying to think of happy memories tends to take it out of you, for some strange reason."

He made an awkward, embarrassed gesture with his hand. "Can you morph now?"

"Yes, thanks. About your--"

"Only you're not at the moment." He added quickly, "Please, Tonks. It's … it's important to me."

_"I'm fine. I can morph._" She met his gaze defiantly. "You don't look so hot yourself, you know."

Although he didn't move, she felt him flinch from where she was.

"Remus—"

"You're quite right. I'm sorry." His eyes met hers for the briefest of seconds, the look in them was a word she could only describe as haunted, before the shutters came down again and she thought she simply couldn't bear any more of this.

"Look," she said abruptly. "I don't know about you but I'm not up to speed with the book on how to talk to your ex without extreme awkwardness all round. But I'm here because you need help and if we keep this up it's going to be a very long night. So if we agree that we're both touchy, and that I am almost certainly going to say and do completely the wrong thing at some point, do you think we can try and get along for a bit? Like we used to?"

Even as she said the words, she suddenly wondered at her insensitivity in coming upon him like this. She'd had hours to think about it, he'd had no warning whatsoever. Yes, she'd come because she wanted to help him, but it wasn't her only motive, and she'd never forgive herself if she was a distraction that led to disaster.

I learn nothing, she thought. _Nothing_.

But he was nodding, almost absently, looking down at the grave. "You haven't touched it, have you?"

"No." She looked at him sideways, his hand fingering his unshaven jaw and she wanted to yell at him that she didn't care in the slightest that he'd obviously been living rough, and looked pretty rough, because, damnit, he was still Remus. But instead she said evenly: "I think the fact that you underlined that it wasn't to be about ten times on the parchment was pretty clear. Now are you going to tell me what's going on and get your clothes off so that I can see why your back's killing you?"

A pause. Then a sound escaped him that was so unexpected, and yet so familiar, it took her a moment to recognise it. That soft little chuckle of amusement he used to give. Almost in spite of herself, she felt an unwilling smile start to form in response.

"We'd better go inside if I'm going to strip off," he said, and this time when his eyes met hers there was a glimmer of something in them, a faint spark of something she knew. A half smile on his lips. "And in case my words have put you in any doubt … I am."

She blinked at him. "Am what?"

"Glad to see you, Tonks."

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They'd argued, and he'd tried to think of another possible way, but the truth was there wasn't. And, as she'd pointed out, he would have asked Mad-Eye to do it all without a second's thought, and that rather proved he hadn't got a leg to stand on. So it was surely time to shut the hell up?

Besides, a tiny voice he couldn't quite silence inside, was telling him what a shame it was that he wasn't going to be able to see Nymphadora Tonks versus possibly her much older equivalent, and that she was much better suited to the task than Mad-Eye would ever have been. Though he very much doubted she was relishing what she was doing now.

Considering she'd seen him without any clothes at all several times, it was a shock to find how difficult standing in front of her with just his shirt off was now.

Embarrassing, almost. Humiliating.

Her fingertips were fresh and cool as they lightly touched the swelling on his back. He heard the quick, indrawn breath.

"I have to say … I don't think this is the best look for you." The fingers pressed down very gently and he tried not to flinch or show any reaction, but she quickly said, "Sorry", and he could hear the anxiety in her voice.

She still cared for him then, even after the way he'd treated her.

_Stop it_.

"It's all right," he said lightly, "it looks much worse that it is."

"You've still got those handy eyes in the back of your head then, have you?" He could visualise exactly the scowl on her face, imagine the small nose wrinkling up in disgust. "Stop talking tripe and be honest. When did this happen? Last night?"

"Yes." Both to distract her and stop himself grinning inanely at her words, he said, "You know it's very hard to have a dignified conversation while I've got my shirt off and you're making rude remarks. I thought you'd be too busy marvelling at this place."

"Oh, I've marvelled all right." She gave a soft snort of derision from behind his shoulder and her breath was warm against his skin. It was a smaller echo of the choking sound she'd produced when he'd carefully undone the enchantments and revealed what lay inside the building. The large, ornate pavilion, divided into sections by long white curtains tied back with silken cords, was indeed a sight to behold, as was the gold-painted roof, decked here and there with stars. A fire had been charmed to burn whenever needed in the corner, and was crackling merrily now, while a round, white marble table sat in the centre, surrounded by dark red and green satin cushions, along with some brightly checked rugs.

Her breath touched his shoulder again, light as the faintest whisper, and he covered the urge to shiver by putting a hand up to rub his arm.

_You don't look so hot yourself, you know._

He'd dreaded and longed for this meeting in equal parts, and when it came it was so unexpected he'd been catapulted back in time to when he'd first set eyes on the young woman with the dancing black eyes and hair the colour of champagne.

But now that flawless, creamy skin had a grainy, tired quality to it, and those eyes flickered, sparked, but didn't dance. Death and despondency and Dementors and, all right, yes, _him_, had done this to her. The vibrant glow had vanished; just like he'd watched it start to dim in front of him when he'd told her he was leaving and it was goodbye. While she, voice pitched so low, so fervent, he thought even now he might have imagined the words because he wanted to hear them so badly, said, "No, it's not."

All this time and he'd tried to put ice round his heart and told himself things would have improved for her, that she may have met someone else and realised her lucky escape, that she was far, _far_ better off without him in her life, but … She didn't look much like someone who'd moved on.

She was like a colour photograph drained to sepia.

Her breath brushed against him again. Was it his imagination she was only a few inches away?

_Stop it._

"The fire smells nice," she said, close to his ear, and he gathered his wits together.

"Apple logs. They smell like the fruit itself."

"One of Marius Black's better ideas then. What else does this place do?"

"When you sit at the table and tap it with your fingers, a fountain in the centre sends different coloured jets of water in the air," he said dryly. "And the lamps dim on a word of command. There's a selection of music available if you clap your hands – I don't think you'd like the choices very much, though Molly might – and a variety of very sickly perfumes for the air you can choose."

"So in other words, it's a naff, crass, really excruciating, would-be seduction pad. Wasn't he blasted from the Black Family tapestry for embarrassing them by being a Squib though?" Tonks said. "Or…" She paused and he could sense her looking round behind him. "_Or_ is it the kind of place a head-over-heels young wizard might create to get his wicked way with an impressionable young Muggle girl?"

She was always quick on the uptake.

"The Squib tale was what was commonly believed but it wasn't true. Far from it." He tried to twist his head round gingerly to see what she was doing, only to have pain shoot across his shoulders. "Haven't you finished giving me the once over back there?"

"It's a proper Healer you need giving you that, not me." She walked round to face him, her face grave and still. "It's a nice rainbow of red, blue, purple – every colour you can think of. I don't think there's any internal bleeding but it hurts like hell, doesn't it?"

"Only when I laugh, as the wizard said with a crossbow bolt stuck in his middle. Did you bring the potions?"

"Yep." She bent over, tossing a couple of cushions roughly out of the way, and started rummaging in the bag as he pulled his shirt back on again. "Can't tell you how thrilled Snape was to be summoned in the middle of class and told by Dumbledore that he had to rustle this up, and for you of all people. He's probably put extra aconite in it, specially. Still, you'd know the taste of that, what with the Wolfsb--" She broke off quickly and held up two bottles, one of a thick, grey paste-like consistency, and the other a deep purple liquid. "I made him put extra Sleeping Draught in, too."

"Tonks, I can't afford to be out of things for too—"

"You'll go through the bloody roof shortly after I slap it on, and you know you will. You're going to have to be asleep while it does its stuff. It's not exactly easy having a potion that gets rid of all the inflammation, leaves you able to move normally, but the skin still looks bruised. As Snape took _great_ delight in pointing out to me at least twenty times." She glared at him and the room was all at once gloriously full of Nymphadora Tonks and that unmistakable, defiant, upward tilt of her head and chin.

He held back a smile with some difficulty. "You're not really going to slap it on, are you?"

"Depends how much you annoy me. And the night is still young." She reached for what looked like a pillow case, and began spreading the paste on it. She said lightly, "So as you clearly need to still look injured to someone after this is over, and have an alibi for tonight into the bargain, I'd guess you've got in the way of someone?"

"It appears that way. Someone certainly wanted me out of action tonight. Which…" He made to shrug and then remembered not to. "Makes me even more uneasy about what's planned."

She raised a questioning eyebrow at him and he said, "It was all very neatly done. There was no one near me at the time. But something tripped me and it just happened to be by the edge of the pit where we store boulders and rocks for the shelters, and it's quite deep and … I didn't land that well." He smiled at her. "Would have been worse face down, so I was lucky."

Some more paste came out of the bottle with considerable force. "Which means that someone doesn't trust you, someone wants you out the way, and it could be someone you sit there and eat and laugh with each day."

_"No_." It came out sharper than he expected, not least because he'd asked himself the same thing over and over. "None of my peo-, none of the werewolves I'm with are that proficient with a wand, some of them don't even have them. Also, ever since Lovel and Randall brought me rumours of this, I've felt as though someone was watching me. Caught a glimpse of someone in the trees who I didn't recognise. And everyone who has spoken out about this in any way, or come to me to say how much they dislike it and wanted me to try and stop it, has either mysteriously decided to leave the camp for a few days or suddenly gone very silent on the whole subject."

For a moment the dark eyes stared at him and he realised how much he'd given away. "Lovel? Randall? Will they be there tonight?" she asked, after a pause.

"Yes. They're two of the very few I might have made some impression on. But I'm not sure if--" Remus broke off and reminded himself the one thing he _was_ sure of these days was that she didn't need any of this unloaded on her. He cleared his throat. "Lovel can still remember what it was like to have parents till he got bitten. Remembers going to school and being considered normal. Randall's older, bitten when even younger. He won't talk much about his past."

"Where are Lovel's parents now?"

"He doesn't know. They threw him out." He saw the look on her face and said harshly, "That's _exactly_ how it is for most of them, Tonks. Shunned and not wanted. The chances I've had, the advantages, my family standing by me, the friends I've had—" He stopped abruptly, wanting desperately to say, "_And, most of all, having someone like you to care about me_." Instead he said quietly, "My life would be just a dream for them. It's very hard for me to convince them of anything when there's so little I can promise or guarantee in return. Whereas Voldemort can make promises."

She nodded quietly. "Come and sit down. We need to get this stuff working."

He hesitated and then sat down beside her on one of the rugs, their shoulders not quite touching.

"You'll have to take your shirt off again," she said with resigned amusement.

A few months, even weeks ago, he'd have turned that into a joke. Into a kiss. Into a—

_Stop it_.

She placed the pillow case very gently against his back, smoothing it down, and he could feel the heat flare against his skin straight away.

"You ought to be lying flat on your stomach," she said, looking at her watch.

"There's still things I need to tell you, Tonks. Things you need to know before you do what I've asked."

"Start talking then." She was digging deep in the bag again. "You've got fifteen minutes of increasing light headness, sweating, burning, disorientation and general delirium before you go through the roof. That's according to our most caring Healer Severus Snape. So you need to take the Sleeping Draught a couple of minutes before it peaks, and—" She broke off and all but stuck her head in the bag. "Where's the damn… Aha!"

He looked at the silver flask she'd just passed him and back at her. "Aha?"

"Pumpkin," she said, helpfully.

He raised an eyebrow. "How long have you been thinking they looked like this, Tonks?"

"_Soup_," she said, pulling a face at him. "Very seasonal. Molly made it, so it's safe. She sends me a weekly food parcel and it takes three owls to deliver the thing. Really embarrassing when Aberforth announces its arrival in front of a packed and far from sober inn, and they all cheer me on as I stagger upstairs with it. Some of the cheeky sods even time me and take bets on it. The Hallowe'en cupcakes are mine, though." She triumphantly held up two remarkably square and solid-looking buns. "You look as if you're starving."

"Well, I—"

"I mean," she interrupted hastily, her face reddening and soft-focus beautiful in the low light, "you need to eat something before you take those potions."

"You're right, I _am_ very hungry." He smiled at her reassuringly but felt a mixture of conflicting emotion. Hating that she was so worried about saying the wrong thing, hating this uncertainty between them, and hating, most of all, the fact that he was ferociously hungry and she could tell.

He'd didn't think he'd ever been vain, but the thought of her counting his ribs was another humiliation.

_You don't look so hot yourself, you know_.

His stomach chose that moment to contribute to the conversation rather loudly. He chuckled and, even if it sounded distinctly forced to him, her lips twitched and then she laughed with him, leaning forward on her elbows on the table to close the distance between them.

"Do you remember that Order meeting when Mad-Eye was telling us the tale of the river trolls, and how you should never go near them in red swimming trunks, and your stomach kept going every time he paused?"

"I do. Do _you_ remember when Sirius passed round those disguised Hiccough Sweets, and Hestia had three at once, and was in such a state she had to have about twenty shocks to bring her out of it?"

"Oh, I do!" Tonks laughed. "I loved it when we'd all tried everything and then Emmeline coolly announced she was pregnant and we were _all_ so shocked no one could speak. She was quite put out when she had to say it was just her way of trying to help Hestia." The wide smile faded as she remembered, like him, who'd never be able to shock anyone again. She quickly turned back to the bag and placed what looked like a silver cigarette lighter in front of him.

"It's Dumbledore's Deluminator." She was watching him carefully. "He said you might find it comes in useful in ways you don't expect."

"…Yes." Remus felt rather dazed and drank some soup, not quite knowing what to think or say, and deciding it was better to do neither. He could feel beads of sweat starting on his brow and the light-headedness was making it hard to concentrate.

"So, the tragedy of Marius and Isabella?" There was a forced, business-like quality to her voice, and he did his best to match it.

"She was from a very rich and influential Muggle family and they were horrified by her association and infatuation with Marius. Her father forbade her to see him ever again, but they continued to meet secretly, out here. They planned to run away together, but her father found out and locked her in the house, and two employees were sent to deal with Marius. They were found miles away with no memory of where they'd been, or what they'd done, and Marius had vanished."

She nodded. "And Isabella?"

"Climbed out a window and came out here to wait. No one knew where she'd gone or where to look."

The dark eyes looked at him. "And?"

"It was another freezing Hallowe'en night. She sat down by a tree to wait where the grave is now and the story is she's waiting for him still."

"I wish I knew if a Muggle ghost was the same as one of ours. I thought only wizards could choose to come back?" Tonks frowned and shook her head slightly. "And he did all this as a memory to her?"

"Depends which story you listen to. The one where he goes mad with grief on finding her and is never seen alive again. Or the one where he goes mad with grief, puts in place some highly sophisticated and worryingly Dark enchantments, which no one's quite got to the bottom of all these years later. Then he renounces magic for ever more by giving a Muggle what she wanted most – the ability to grant wishes herself one night a year. And he is never seen alive again to ask about any of this."

Tonks' frown had deepened. "Both of those don't sound like a cosy bedtime story. Not least because there's always a loophole in these things, isn't there? What kind of wishes?"

"Rumour has it they were good ones. See the face of the person you love, or _will_ love most in the world, and know you'll be with them for ever. The things she wanted while waiting for Marius, presumably."

"As Mad-Eye frequently says, never believe a rumour until you've seen it for yourself. And when you see it for yourself, don't trust what you see." She smiled rather fondly. "Okay. So you lot came out here, led by hey-I've-got-a-great-idea-for-an-exciting-night-in-the-woods Sirius, did you? And no one thought to examine you all for evidence of brains beforehand?"

"It was a fashionable thing to do at the time," Remus could hear the ache of regret in his voice and saw her face soften as he put up a hand to push back the hair which was sticking to his damp brow. "We were young and reckless. And very, very stupid."

"So what happened?"

"Nothing much. We came out here; Sirius touched the grave and said the only face he saw was James' drunken one looming over him. James touched it, very reluctantly, and Peter wasn't going to but then decided to at the very last minute, so as not to be left out."

"And you?"

"I … didn't. I don't know why." _Apart from the overwhelming certainty there'd be no one's face for him to see._ "None of us really talked about it much afterwards. We certainly didn't see the ghost of Isabella floating about in her nightie, but McGonagall tore a strip off us afterwards and we all felt pretty stupid."

"So we've no idea what the loophole is then?"

He swallowed. Forced himself to keep looking at the dark eyes, which were now looking increasingly hazy to him, as was the entire room. "No."

She nodded and he didn't think she was convinced for a second, but she didn't press the matter, which was just as well as he suddenly had no idea what they were talking about.

"How are you feeling?" She was looking at him with concern.

"Fi- fine." It didn't seem a good idea to tell her that it was getting very hard to focus. Mustn't worry her, after all. The tingling and burning was now like being squeezed in a red-hot vice; his skin, from what he could see, was slowly turning puce and and pulses he didn't even know he'd got were rhythmically hammering all over.

"Room keeps mov– moving about a bit, that's s'all." He put a hand out to make it stop doing that, but there didn't seem to be a handle to grab onto.

Well, of course, there wouldn't be. Talk about stupid. No wonder she was looking at him oddly.

Or was that because he'd said something out loud? Must watch that. He wasn't allowed to say what he really thought any more. Mustn't tell her how he missed her, how lonely he was. It was a rule and he didn't break rules. Because when he did, people suffered.

_Mustn't worry her. Must protect her_.

"Finish your soup," she said. "It'll help with the potions. Line your stomach a bit."

He looked into her eyes as she held the flask to his lips. It was all right to feel like this, wasn't it? As long as he didn't say it out loud any more because that wasn't fair. Who wouldn't love a girl who thought of pumpkin soup on a night like this?

So much she didn't know about him though, and she'd despise him if she did. If he let her in like he wanted. Like he did in his dreams.

He wanted her so much.

_Stop it._

He knew what she was like when she made love. When she kissed him and touched him and moved with him. The joy of it. What they shared. He couldn't forget it, didn't _want_ to ever forget it.

_He hadn't said anything out loud, had he?_

"It's time." She was reaching behind her for the Sleeping Draught.

"_No!_" Had he told her enough? Probably not; he never did. "I – I need you to go and see her. Get her to tell you the truth. Ask about the Muggle baiting. Not the ru – rumours."

"I know. You told me. Drink this." Her face swam into focus in front of him.

"The address –"

"I know that too. I'll find it. Now drink this or I'll knock you out with my bare hands."

He drank obediently, feeling the room instantly start to dim around him as the internal furnace grew unbearable, and she put an arm swiftly under his. "You're going to have to lie down before you fall down."

Both her slim arms were pulling him towards her.

_Stop it. _

Mustn't. 

"Stop fighting me, you great prat."

_Oh, all right then. Just this once._

"I absolutely cannot _believe_ you were going to do this with Mad-Eye," she said, breathless against him.

He found himself giggling as she seemed to be trying to manoeuvre them both sideways for some strange reason, and then they'd fallen onto the cushions while she was muttering what sounded like a string of unladylike expletives. Well he'd fallen on her, really, which was just like old times. He was going to point that out when he remembered that that wasn't allowed any more, but as it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity while he was in the vicinity, he kissed her.

On the eyebrow, as it happened.

He hadn't been aiming for there, had he? But kissing on eyebrows was all that he was allowed to do now and it was time to go home before he ruined her life.

"Thanks for having me," he said cheerily, as he found himself floating face down, in a sea of red satin cushions, and with all consciousness disappearing rapidly into welcoming black oblivion.

His last recollection was of her lips against his ear, her hand very gentle on his face.

"I wish I had," she said.

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**To be continued... In the meantime, reviewers get their choice of Noble!Remus, who is trying very hard to do what he thinks is the right thing, or Delirious!Remus, who is long past caring about any such thing. ;)**


	2. Part II

**_This is where the M rating comes in - there's nothing graphic, but be warned there's a few nasty threats and implications in this part._**

**Revenant Part II**

Tonks had planned several opening lines but Lucinda Russell, former Seer, and long-term inhabitant of Sunnyside Rest & Retirement Home (motto: _Exceptional care from people who care_), rather took her breath away.

"So you're Remus Lupin's Dora, are you?"

"Why … _yes_." The more accurate answer being _I was_, but she didn't care. Had he really called her that? She hadn't been sure what to expect from Remus' description, but it wasn't this tiny, bird-like creature, who was regarding her with piercing blue eyes through brass-rimmed spectacles.

All while peering through a six inch gap between door and wall. Tonks wondered how many people were eavesdropping in the corridor and then decided they were so high up – and this was an _old_ people's home – that the answer was none. Particularly as all the other inhabitants seemed to be gathered round the piano in the lounge downstairs, knocking back sherry and biscuits, and singing something the matron had told her was a Vera Lynn classic.

Personally, Tonks thought Vera could teach Celestina Warbeck a thing or two about holding a tune.

"I'm ninety-eight," the creature announced, head tilted on one side to see how this news was taken.

"I'm twenty-four."

"Andromeda's girl?"

"And Ted Tonks'."

"Hmm. Don't know him. My loss, I'm sure." Tonks was inspected again thoroughly from head to foot. "You must be quite pretty when you don't look so pasty and miserable. Remus told me you're an Auror."

"Yes."

"Good news for the female side then." The door opened about another six inches. "I'm out of touch stuck in here and one rather fears those idiots at the Ministry might have taken to hiring some frightfully butch types, clad all in leather, in a last ditch attempt to put the collywobbles up You-know-who's backside.

Tonks managed to compress her lips together just in time. "I've left my leather gear at home for the evening. Along with my spear."

"Have you now?" Approving light seemed to gather in the glasses. "Well you'd better come into my grotto and have a little drink, hadn't you? Gin? Whiskey?

"A small whiskey, please." Tonks stepped over the threshold, feeling as though she'd passed some kind of vampire admittance test. She'd thought it rather odd when the matron had escorted her up the numerous flights of stairs to what seemed like the attic, knocked on the door, nodded apologetically and promptly sped off without looking back. Though admittedly her experience of Muggle rest homes was severely limited.

This surely wasn't normal though, was it?

The room itself was all angles and corners and seemed crammed full of a total mis-match of pictures, furniture and ornaments. Roughly half the things Tonks recognised; everything else, she assumed, must be from the Muggle world. A large glass cabinet, from which Miss Russell was removing a half empty bottle, was packed to the brim full of others. There were locked cupboards around the room, a very, very high bed – she must need a ladder to get up there –a fire burning low in the grate, and an absolutely full-to-bursting bookcase, with what looked like some highly dubious reading material that an Auror with a lot less to think about would be very interested in.

She wondered why in the name of Merlin a Seer would choose to end her days here of all places.

"There you go." A tiny hand like a walnut, with red varnished nails, passed her the glass. There was a comforting and familiar smell to the room. "Could you really see me in a little black and white timbered cottage, with pink roses strewn just-so round the arch above the door, and a tortoiseshell cat purring in the window?"

Tonks jumped with the glass half way to her lips. Some of the whiskey – it certainly wasn't a small one – slopped over the side.

"That was rude," she said reprovingly, rubbing the wet patch on her jeans with her hand. "But now you mention it – why here?"

"Because I can't stand cats, and don't have to worry about keeping the garden nice, or anything else for that matter. One can live easily amongst the old Muggle biddies here; they're mostly harmless and I do them little favours now and again. _Don't_ look like that at me, young lady. Even old biddies still like a nostalgic frisson or two to keep the blood flowing in the varicose veins. No, the point is that all I have to do here is _Obliviate_ that pain in the arse of a matron whenever she's a nusiance, and I can do as I like. The food's good too. No one clamouring at my door to have their bloody tea leaves read every five minutes. In fact," the blue eyes gleamed wickedly through the glass, "you might say it's every Seer's dream to end their days with … _Inner_ peace for their Eye."

Tonks, who'd been trying to get some whiskey actually in her mouth, was forced to swallow liquid and air together, with nearly disastrous results.

"Steady on," said Miss Russell, arranging herself and her green dressing gown carefully on what looked like a child's stool.

"Doesn't the Ministry clamp down on you for using magic?" Tonks asked, rather faintly.

"Oh, they sometimes send that lovely Arthur Weasley round to give me a lecture, but nothing too severe happens." The little face took on a harder edge. "They're too frightened of me, you see. I know too many things they wouldn't want getting out. They used me extensively for years before age started catching up with me and I couldn't cope with it any more. Don't look so worried, it's a well known fact that all the best Seers go nuts in the end, if they're not to start with. You would, too, if you had to keep seeing the future when the past and the present are quite excruciating enough. Besides, I love seeing Arthur and having a little chat over a gin and tonic or three. All you have to do is give him a plug or a battery to play with and he's so happy."

Tonks suddenly wished she had a lot more time to spend with this woman.

"Nice as it is to meet you at last, Dora Tonks – and you do show some signs of living up to my extremely high expectations – where is my lovely Remus Lupin?"

"He's a bit occupied with being unconscious at the moment." Tonks took her eyes off one of the pictures on the wall, which seemed to consist of a large amount of naked flesh. "That's why I'm here. We need to know about Marius Black and Isabella Montague-Lacey."

"Do you now? What _do_ you know?"

"Only the rumours. So virtually nothing."

"Nice to see you're an intelligent girl." The blue eyes were unfocused; hazy.

"Remus says you'll know the truth, if anyone does." She paused and took a chance. "Though I'll probably have to play by your rules to get it."

"He's a cheeky boy, that one." The eyes were suddenly diamond-bright again. "They've hurt him, haven't they?"

"Yes."

"Badly?"

"Bad enough to try and ensure he doesn't put a stop to something called 'Muggle baiting', which is due to take place tonight in," Tonks checked her watch, "about three hours time on the stroke of midnight. At Isabella's grave."

There was an indrawn hiss of breath from the level of the stool. "What are they doing? _Don't_ tell me. Young, not-too-bright, werewolf lads meeting Muggle girls and boys for a drink at the pub, and a squeeze and a bit of a grope in the dark, followed by a giggly trek through the woods to see a ghost and have a wish granted on Hallowe'en?"

Tonks took a deep swallow of whiskey. "Got it in one."

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Lucinda Russell shook her head. "Remus did right to send you here. Who's organising it?"

"A werewolf called Ralf Quinn. He's one of Fenrir Greyback's most trusted lieutenants. He's coming here to make sure the lads have a good night out. We presume he'll be planning on giving trick or treat a whole new meaning."

Miss Russell had turned her head away, watching the fire in the furthest corner of the room. Tonks suddenly recognised the smell.

_Apple logs._

"How do you know Remus?" she asked.

"Mmm?" The bird-like head – even the tight white curls were like a plume - tilted towards her. "Oh, I was neighbour to the Lupins for a long time. Nice family. I was the one who stayed."

"The one who stayed?"

Those odd eyes were shining again. "All the others moved away. After he was bitten. His parents had to tell them, they thought it was only fair."

"But…" Tonks was so shocked she could barely find the words. "He was a small _child_."

"Still a werewolf, though. Still a Dark Creature." Lucinda Russell shrugged. "Think about it; how would you like to know that that was being chained up in a cellar close to your own precious family once a month? There was always the possibility of escape. There was no Wolfsbane back then, only wild stories and unlikely theories about how the curse was passed on. All the neighbours said they understood, of course, that there was no problem at all, but they all equally soon moved away, one by one."

"He … never said."

"No, I don't suppose he did. You must realise the shame and stigma attached to being a werewolf, though? Why do you think they go out of their way not to have children of their own? Do you not think about things like that and what they could mean to you?"

Tonks looked at her and a pencilled eyebrow rose high about the glasses. "I know; one's being frightfully rude and personal, and we've only just met. But neither of us have time for the niceties. You'll have to believe it's from the best possible motives. I've known Remus for over thirty years and this shrivelled old heart of mine was thrilled at seeing him so happy a few months back. He keeps finding excuses not to come and see me now so I can't get answers from him. You've just put those nasty blocks in your mind – Occlumency is such a nuisance – and though I could find my way through if I really wanted to, I'd rather not as it's remarkably like rifling through someone's underwear drawer. One just prays they've washed their knickers. And what I'd like to know is if you think he's worth fighting for?"

Tonks considered quickly. "Perhaps I'll answer your questions if you'll answer mine."

"Smart girl. Now you're playing my game." A crumpled smile, the little face folding in on itself into a thousand lines. "You have a deal."

"All right." Tonks wondered how much she knew, but was sure Remus would have been as sparing on details as ever. Especially when it came to this. Which is why _Dora_ was something to cling onto.

She took another swallow of whiskey. "We were colleagues, then friends, then it became a whole lot more shortly before – before a friend died." She paused. "Then people I worked with died. And Dumbledore gave Remus this mission."

"Ah, yes, Albus. Such a manipulative old bastard." Miss Russell burst out laughing. "I can see by your face you agree, Dora Tonks! Don't worry, I don't expect you to be disloyal, but he certainly is. But that is what's needed in these times – ruthlessness and cunning. For example, I'm sure he only sent you to Remus because he knew, firstly, that it was likely you could do the task in hand, and, secondly, that he was sending a pair of, one might say, _interesting_ lovers out against a pair of very interesting ghostly ones."

Tonks blinked.

"One hasn't considered that?"

"No." Tonks frowned. _One bloody hadn't._ "There was I thinking he might possibly be trying to do us both a favour out of guilt."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm sure he was! Though I doubt it was out of guilt. Albus is a bit of an old romantic, especially when it comes to thwarted love for whatever reason, and he's always had a liking for Remus and I'm sure he must be fond of you, too." Miss Russell leaned forward on her stool. "But don't be fooled into thinking that that wouldn't rate a very lowly third on his list. When you have to be prepared to send people out to die, you can't afford to be too sentimental."

"I'm learning that." Tonks spoke grimly, thinking she never wanted to end up like that herself. "When Remus told me it was finished, I –I refused to accept it. Part of coming here – a large part – was to see if that's still true. I might be young but I'm not a fool. I've thought over and over what he said, and I know how hard a life with him will be. Or perhaps I don't know. That doesn't matter. Perhaps he's right and I will regret it one day. I don't know that, either. He wants us to be friends now but you make friends because you choose them, you usually have things in common, and it's all very … _reasonable_. And Remus can tell me why we shouldn't be together, and he's thinking by reason as well, and he believes that he's absolutely right. But -" She stopped, feeling the heat in her cheeks. "When it comes to this, I just think reason should get stuffed."

Lucinda Russell hugged her bony knees to her chest and laughed. "Ooh, goodie, now I can tell you're a Black. One was wondering when the blood would out."

Tonks gave her an unimpressed look and she laughed. "It always comes down to that in the end, my girl. As long as this isn't some ghastly theory about you having the love of a good man and all's well with your world? Because I have to tell you, I will be severely disappointed if it is."

"I'm working on the theory that all he needs is the love of a good woman and all might be a bit better with _his_ world," Tonks said dryly and Miss Russell clapped her hands.

"Marvellous!"

"Okay. It's your turn and I haven't got time for the niceties, either. Tell me about Muggle ghosts – I thought only wizards could chose to come back?"

The little face wrinkled up in dismay. "Yes … and no. I could bore you with technicalities about imprints and poltergeists and psychic projections, but what you need to think about is that some Muggles believe that Hallowe'en is the night the barriers come down between the dead world and this one. And belief can create energy. And energy can be harnessed. Not always to the good. Our magic combined with their energy is a very powerful force indeed. What did you think of the grave?"

Tonks frowned. "Peaceful. Not unfriendly. At least the trees and the surrounding area are."

"Exactly. Anything else strike you?"

"There's scorch marks on the trees. From a wand. Marius?"

"Indeed from a wand. But not Marius. From Isabella using his wand and trying to make it work for her. Abusing the trees." She saw the look on Tonks' face and sighed. "It's part of my less than glorious past that I once worked for a branch of the Black family. I was young, and greedy, and a Seer was very useful to people like them. I can remember the incredible scandal when Marius fell for this little blonde Muggle girl, who seemed so very simple but, like a lot of simple people, was actually very cunning."

"That doesn't sound like a story book romance."

"No." The light through the glasses was now intent and focused. "Marius would have done literally anything for Isabella. He did. He found a way to give her in death what she'd longed for in life – a way to do magic. He was an impetuous, romantic fool and he was overwhelmed with grief. He didn't realise that as far as she was concerned, he and this wonderful world of magic he'd shown her, had let her down completely at the end. She'd sat there and waited, and neither it nor he came to save her."

Tonks frowned again. "So we've got a malevolent ghost, who gets to grant wishes – I'm thinking they're not going to be nice ones, are they? Only rumour has it that if you touch the grave tonight you'll get to see and one day be with your true love forever."

"Nearly right," Lucinda Russell said calmly. "That's what Marius intended – that they died for, and with each other, and were rewarded by always being together. But it's more accurate to say that you'll see the person you love the most and one day die for them. Without ever knowing their fate or if you save them. By her logic, she died for him, not knowing where he was. She wants others to suffer the same. It's revenge played out over and over again."

"Oh…._shit_." Tonks could remember the look on Remus' face as he'd told her, when she'd _known_ he was being economical with the truth. Had he suspected as well? James, who'd touched the grave, and later gone on to die for Lily and Harry. Sirius, who'd laughingly said he'd only seen James' face that night, but had died for the son who looked so like him. Peter, who might as well be dead, and cared only for himself…

"She'll want a death to appease her," said Miss Russell, her face lined and troubled. "An immediate one. None of this years afterwards stuff; that can't be very satisfying to a malevolent little cow. She wasn't the nicest person when she was alive, you know."

"I've got to go." Tonks put the glass down on the nearest cupboard.

"Yes, I think you have." Lucinda Russell's face was troubled. "Because I haven't explained that the Muggles have a term which is badger baiting. It's against the law but in some places it still goes on. Men torment the badger with dogs and when the badger turns on them they have an excuse to kill it. So Muggle baiting -"

"-- is being hunted by werewolves tonight. Young boys who've been told it's all a bit of fun. That the girls will only protest to start with and they can do what they like with a Muggle. That they've got to prove themselves as both man and beast." Tonks closed her eyes for a second, remembering what Remus said he'd been told by both Lovel and Randall: _"No one will get hurt, just the Muggles will get a bit of a fright, and that's all their fault for being a Muggle_."

Crap, she thought, and then her mind made another unwanted connection.

_Death is a debt to nature due, which she has paid and so will you_.

"Yes." Miss Russell nodded. "Isabella was corrupted by magic. Betrayed nature, if you like. Marius realised what had happened, of course, but too late to reverse it."

_Can't right my rights or right my wrongs, except in dreams where we belong_.

The little face was screwed up in disquiet. "Which may mean there's a very vindictive ghost out there who hasn't had anyone to torment for a long time. I thought the Ministry had successfully stopped anyone going there years ago."

"They forgot about the werewolves. Remus said they find food in the woods there and they know all about the iron gate that leads to this mystery place they can't get into. Except tonight they can." Tonks stood up, running her hand through her hair. "I have to go," she said again.

"You and Remus have a plan to stop all this, of course?"

"We didn't quite realise everything involved, but … he has a plan."

"You've let him drain you, haven't you? Take all your colour?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it _let_." Tonks heard the defensive note in her voice. "Nor put it all down to him."

The head was tilted on one side, watching her closely. "Last time I saw him, it seemed to me that he was pretty drained himself. All emotion buttoned up so tightly it was amazing, quite frankly, that he could breathe at all. I wondered then what kind of girl could do that to him. No wonder Albus has sent you two to sort this out."

Tonks bit her lip. "The best we do now is avoid hurting each other and stumble around all the things we can't talk about. He's said nothing to give me much hope."

"Nothing?"

"Well, he did attempt to wrestle me to the floor at one point, but he was delirious at the time."

"Much like drunkenness, one tends to think that's when people are _really_ honest. No tiresome self-control to get in the way." Lucinda Russell laughed. "Besides, you _know_ him. I though you didn't listen to boring old reason?"

Tonks grinned at her. "I know for a fact the daft idiot is going to do his level best to keep me out of harm's way tonight and probably make himself a target instead."

"And you're not standing for that, are you? Good girl!" The light in the glasses was twin pinpoints, fixing her against the door. "So stop hanging around with a silly old fart like me, and go get your leather and your spear, Dora Tonks!"

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There was a broken necklace of moving lights, of flickering fire torches being carried head high in the distance. An occasional raucous laugh and breathy giggle floated down on the silent, creeping mist.

"Sure the back's all right?" she asked again, low-voiced, crouching next to him in the darkness.

"You've looked at it. Prodded it several times, in fact, in a fairly brutal manner."

"That's why I'm asking, Remus. It still looks awful."

"Well, trust me, it feels fine. Remember to pass on my compliments and admiration to Severus."

"I think I'll just say thanks if it's all the same to you. Don't want him getting too choked up with emotion, do I?" He could just imagine the look she was giving him in the dark and wanted to laugh, though the truth was he _was_ incredibly grateful to Snape.

Say what you like, the man was a genius with potions. He didn't even ache, though he was worried he'd made a complete fool of himself shortly before the Sleeping Draught had taken hold. Tonks would only say, with a mischievous grin, that he had nothing to worry about, which wasn't in the slightest bit reassuring. Though those black eyes had danced at him once again and he thought making a prat of himself was worth it to see that alone.

_As long as he hadn't said anything unfair. Given her hope when he knew there was none_.

"You know…" She was watching the lights as they drew nearer. "Not to worry you or anything, but unless they're all carrying torches, there's more than we bargained for. There's always the one thing you don't count on."

He'd thought that himself. _Damn_. They'd allowed for ten or so but extra Muggles were a complication they didn't need, and extra anything else didn't bear thinking about.

"And you're sure they'll come in from the west side, even though it's much more difficult up that hill?"

"Yes. My peo – werewolves have learnt that if you're on high ground you can see trouble coming and run from it if necessary." He didn't say that they hunted like that too, but thought she'd guessed anyway as her shoulder first brushed against and then stayed to lean against his. "And then they'll be able to give the girls a hand over the difficult terrain," he added. "It's a good excuse to get your arm round someone and possibly leave it there, and then see what develops. You know."

The shoulder pressure withdrew.

"And there I was thinking you were so sweet and innocent when we first met," she muttered.

"I _was_ very sweet. That doesn't mean I was stupid." An elbow dug none too gently into his ribs and he thought that if this hadn't been so serious, and potentially so deadly, he'd have been enjoying himself.

_Because she was here and it was like old times_.

"I just hope none of them are in high heels, for their sake," she said by his ear. "I nearly broke my neck myself coming up there the first time."

Suddenly any misplaced sense of enjoyment vanished. "Tonks –"

"They're close enough." She wasn't listening. "We don't want to end up in the middle."

He smiled mirthlessly at the sudden memory of Sirius saying that if you found yourself caught in the middle, the trick was to always make sure you ended up on top. Though he hadn't been referring to this sort of thing. "Tonks –" He caught her arm as she started to get to her feet. "You're _sure_ you can morph?"

"I've told you, I can. You worry about yourself. I've got the easy part. In fact –"

"_Just_ get the Muggles out of here and safe. Stick to the plan. I'll do the rest."

She said something under her breath, which he didn't catch. There wasn't time to argue again, the lights were almost upon them and, _oh damn_, there were indeed more than he thought and they weren't Muggles. He could tell from their movement and the positions they were taking up. Flanking positions at the side and rear, like the pack hunted prey, so nothing could double back and escape.

_But these were men. And these weren't prey, they were people_.

Which is why it had to be stopped. Whatever it took. He could see the outline of her head next to him, and saw the characteristic rise of the defiant little chin, and the toss of the head.

He pulled her to him in an impulsive, clumsy hug and she buried her head in-between his neck and shoulder.

"Stay safe," he said, thinking he could bear anything as long as she was.

"You too." Her voice was muffled but fierce.

His lips touched the soft hair against his face for the briefest of seconds and then she was gone, a black shadow swallowed up immediately by the darkness and mist.

He pulled the hood up over his head and crouched down again. Watched them go by, giggling, joking, swaying against each other. "You haven't got a bleeding clue where you're going, Gerry!" followed by "Look out, shithead!" Then more laughter, someone stumbling and a deep voice at the rear – _oh God_ – rich with amusement, suggesting they all hang onto the person in front as they were about to have to go up some very steep rocks.

A chorus of groans. "You've _got_ to be kidding me, mate. I thought we were going to see a grave, not climbing effing mountains." A male voice, which must belong to a Muggle. As was the girl's that followed it. "All too much for you, is it Danny? Don't want to break your lovely nails?"

"Piss off, Collette," was the reply, followed by more loud laughter.

"It'll be all right." An earnest, young voice. Lovel's. Sounding uneasy but wanting to help. "I won't let you go."

"I bet you won't! I can tell what he's after, Maddy!"

"_Actually_…" The rich voice was just ever so gently amused by it all. "I think Lovel's got the right idea. It is steep and we don't want any of you ladies – or gentlemen – losing your footing in the dark. I did bring something I'd forgotten all about, but Lovel's just reminded me what a very good idea it would be."

The light from the torches dipped and moved as Remus craned his head to see.

"Ooh, sexy!" It sounded like Collette again. "This is just, like, _unreal_."

"We said we'd give you a thrill, didn't we? Watch where you're stepping, it's narrow there."

"Oh, mega thanks, mate. Got to agree it's bloody _awesome_ out here."

"I don't think I –"

"Just _do it_, Lovel."

"It's, like, ever so tight." Another girl's voice, giggling. "Don't you want me to get away?"

"Oh, I don't want you going anywhere, Maddy." The rich voice again. "Except staying safe beside me. But remember –" the voice was raised slightly, to make sure it carried – "no one look down now. We're high up and all the scares are supposed to be later on." Remus knew that must be Ralf Quinn, with that note of command in his voice, and the way the other two, no, _shit_, three, werewolves said nothing and hung their heads deferentially as he spoke.

Along with the two youngsters from his camp, plus the one he didn't know, that made seven werewolves and … four, no, five Muggles. No, _six_. There was a tall, lanky boy with black shoulder length hair at the rear on his own, who he'd somehow missed seeing before. He looked a lot like Sirius had in his last years at Hogwarts, and how amused would Padfoot have been to think there were Black family look-alikes amongst the Muggles?

_Still, thirteen?_ Let's hope it wasn't unlucky for someone.

If only he could count on the youngsters not to try and fight, or get in the way. Lovel wouldn't. Randall probably wouldn't, but he didn't even know the name of the other youngster they'd brought along. He looked scared to death though, more of Quinn than anything else. Which meant he'd do anything he was told.

_And Dora was out there. On her own_.

A small breeze touched his face under the hood and the fire from the torches flared and lit up the scene in front of him for a second. Long enough for him to make out that they were all now stood in a straight line, like some kind of swaying, drunken, follow-my-leader gathering.

_There's always the one thing you don't count on_.

What he hadn't counted on was Ralf Quinn tying them all to each other with what looked distinctly like leather straps.

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It had taken them absolutely ages to get to the top of the slope. From the piercing, ear-splitting shrieks and screams and swearing that went on, Tonks almost hoped that Ralf Quinn's irritation levels would be such that he'd give the whole thing up, but there was no chance of that. The line of light faltered, staggered and occasionally came to a complete standstill, but each time that voice, the one that was almost sexy if it hadn't contained something which made the hairs on the back of her neck crawl, was raised above that of everyone else to give instruction and on they came. And now they were nearly on even ground again and it was only a short walk to the iron gate that marked the entrance to the grave.

Except she was in the way.

"Hang on a minute everyone, we're almost there." The voice of command again, and now the torches were flaring in a circle and she could see everyone in the dark red light and black flickering shadows, and the shock was such she nearly gasped.

_No one had said Muggles dressed up for Hallowe'en_.

The girl with the long hair nearest her, the one giggling quietly at absolutely nothing, was wearing a very short, shiny black dress, breasts half rising out of it – the boy next to her was staring at them avidly – with long black, high-heeled boots, a bright red wig and … some kind of pointed hat.

With a large W in white on it. Tonks thought it was too much to hope that it stood for wanker.

Well, that was one who wasn't going to be able to run for a start. Neither was the boy, Gerry, who was dressed as – presumably – a vampire, with huge, fake teeth. Or the girl who seemed to be dressed as a cat, complete with a tail and whiskers, and who looked about sixteen at most.

For the first time, Tonks felt the beginnings of despair as she looked at them – these were _children_ in a way Harry, Ron and Hermione had never been, even though they were probably older in years. Children against men, who were beyond their comprehension.

Did they not sense the danger they were in? How could they be so trusting?

She looked at her watch. Remus should be coming up behind them by now if he'd done what he had to.

Except Ralf Quinn wasn't waiting for anybody.

"Right then." He walked up to the girl in the shiny black dress and smiled at her as he reached into his pocket. Tonks had her wand pointed at him, ready to send a _Stupefy_ right into the centre of his chest as the edge of the knife blade caught the light, but all he did was slice through the strap that tied the girl and the one she thought might be Lovel to the rest.

His own strap had already been cut.

"Two at a time, I think," he said. "We don't want to scare Isabella off, do we?"

"Oh, but I want us to see her all at once!" The girl looked up at him, half pouting, half smiling invitingly. "You promised, Ralfy!"

"Yeah. That's right, mate." The fake vampire spoke out, confident and loud. "We all want to see –"

Quinn slapped him hard across the face.

It was almost lazy, as if to show that if he was really annoyed he'd knock his head from his shoulders without so much thought or effort as in swatting a fly.

"From now on, you don't speak till you're spoken to. And my dear Collette –" He swung round on the stunned girl. "I think you're wearing far too many clothes in this weather." He looked back at the boy he'd just hit. "I'm sure you'd think she'd look even more _awesome_ without them, wouldn't you?"

"N - no." It must be Lovel, he sounded terrified. Tonks could literally see him shaking, but he still took half a step towards Ralf Quinn. "No. I don't want to do this."

Tonks could see Quinn's eyes shining from where she was. With pleasure.

"Oh look," he said. "I think we've got our first victim. Let's see if you're willing to die for the Muggle filth, or would prefer her to do the dying for you."

He took a step towards the boy, the girl in the cat costume whimpered, and then the torches went out like a sudden draught had blown them out.

Voices cried out and were roughly silenced by Quinn. Tonks was momentarily puzzled, having seen no telltale wand signs, and then remembered the Deluminator. If so, good for that manipulative old bastard, Albus Dumbled--

A huge fountain of flame and light sprang into the air. Jets of red and gold lights from a wand shot upwards like cascading fireworks, and at the centre was surely the unmistakable glow and heat of real flames, looking like a splash of crimson blood against the moonless sky.

Everyone turned to watch the world burn before them, except for one tall boy, with shoulder length hair, who for a moment seemed to be looking directly at her hiding place. He reminded her of someone, but before she could wonder who it was the smoke and mist covered him from sight.

Wisps of black ash, like fluttering moths, drifted downwards from the sky. One lightly brushed her cheek in passing.

Ralf Quinn drew his wand and Tonks quickly covered him with hers.

Slowly, very slowly the flames died back until just two bushes burned, fierce and crackling in the night. And in the centre of them was a hooded figure all in black.

Someone gasped.

_Show off_, thought Tonks, and felt the idiotic grin spread across her face.

"My, my." Ralf Quinn sounded a lot less impressed. "What have we here? Someone else that needs to be taught their lowly place in society?"

He'd barely finished talking when he hurled some sort of vicious-looking hex, but Remus had had all the time in the world to _Conjure_ a Shield Charm and it slid harmlessly by. Instead the dark hood looked at the scene in front of it as though suddenly frightened, as though suddenly aware of how vastly out-numbered it was, took a couple of hesitant steps backwards, stumbled, and then turned tail and ran.

_Go on, thought Tonks. Follow the decoy like a good little werewolf_.

"You both stay here!" Quinn growled, gesturing at one of the men, who immediately started to cut himself free. "He can't go far as he'll have to come back if he's playing the Muggle saviour. Connor, watch the filth."

He vanished into the darkness where Remus had last been seen and, as he did so, Tonks closed her eyes and concentrated on imagining what a blonde and nasty ghost might look like. What was once so easy was now … _such_ … an … _almighty_ … effort, but she was going to hold onto it, whatever it took, and she forced her body to obey her.

The blonde hair nearly hanging to her waist was really rather dramatic, though she thought her face had the required pallor with no further help required.

All she needed now was for her pounding heart to calm down.

Of course, it was just typical that no one was even bloody looking in her direction. Still, it gave her time to add some artistic fog around her, which was a nice, ghostly effect, and would hide the fact that Isabella probably wouldn't be floating around in ankle boots, two sweaters and a pair of jeans.

She raised her wand, hit the one called Connor neatly on the forehead with a _Conjunctivitus Curse_, and shouted at the top of her voice as she watched him fall to his knees clutching and clawing at his eyes.

What came out sounded distinctly like "Oy!" but every head did turn as one in her direction.

There were a couple of very loud screams of shock, and a lot of fearful wailing, which would have been extremely gratifying, except that she was suddenly aware that the pounding in her ears was getting worse. Neither was the world quite as in focus as it should be. Someone yelled, and it sounded as if they'd just been painfully hexed, which was surely good news, but what definitely wasn't so great was every muscle in her face sliding around like uncontrollable jelly.

_The morph was slipping_.

She fought it again. But it was a brief respite only and she started to shake with the effort of hanging onto it. She could hazily glimpse someone unconscious and bound on the floor, which surely made two, if not three werewolves out of action, when suddenly she knew she couldn't hold it together any longer.

The world spun so violently she thought her head was going to fall off.

"Er … Hello." A male voice sounding very uncertain and almost as if it was backing away from her. Lovel. "Remus says I'm to help you and that you're not, not _her_… Oh!"

"It's all right." Tonks was forced to look up at him as she was on her knees, without being too sure how she'd got there. His face was a blur. But she needed to get these kids out of here and help was welcome.

"It's all right," she said again. "I'm here to…" _Throw up at your feet?_ She swallowed convulsively and took a deep breath of the freezing cold air.

"Your face … It's – it's …_changing_," said Lovel.

"Don't worry," Tonks got out, thinking she was doing enough for both of them as it was. The spinning stopped as she felt the long blonde hair vanish, which probably went to prove that bad hair was always a thing to avoid.

She took a chance and stood up. Bit blurry but not too bad. Apart from the shakiness. And the pounding. And the—

"Tonks!" Remus was suddenly beside her, his hand on her elbow, his voice sharp. "What are you doing? Take them through the gate and get them out of here!"

She swallowed quickly again. "Did you set the false trail?"

"Yes. Quinn should follow it for a fair old way before he realises it's a trick. And by that time you all need to be gone from here. So get going. Lovel, trust me, she really _isn't_ a ghost!"

"Where's Randall?" Lovel said, still staring wide-eyed at Tonks. "I haven't seen him for ages."

"… I'll find him," said Remus. He turned to her, very calm and controlled. "Go. Please. Now."

Tonks felt as though ice was melting down her spine. She took another breath and raised her voice. "Right you lot, behind me! Lovel, can you bring up the rear, and make sure no one gets lost? Everyone fast as you can and help each other as we can't risk lights."

Truth be told, they followed her like obedient and frightened sheep. She took them away from the grave as fast as she dared, and then stood and watched and counted as they filed past. Some holding onto each other, some supporting each other as they stumbled along. The tall boy she thought she'd glimpsed earlier wasn't there but they all looked at her dumbly when she asked, and the other boy was tall and dark, and not dissimilar, and she had been looking through smoke. The girl dressed as the cat went by with the ridiculous fake vampire. Then Lovel bringing up the rear nervously.

There was no Collette. No shiny black dress or pointed hat.

She'd always known that she'd have to go back.

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There was a light round the grave that didn't come from the sky. A glow of silvery grey that lit it from within, as well as from above, and which made the edge of the knife glint as it caught it.

Quinn stood in front of it with his arm round the girl's neck; the blade to her throat.

"Remus Lupin, I imagine?" he said. He was breathing heavily but the voice was still amused. "I had someone watching you but they swore they'd put you out of action for some while."

"They did." Remus smiled mirthlessly. "I think you'll find I'm not really here at all."

"Another ghost, eh?" Quinn smiled too. "Well, that's handy because you can just float off then, and leave me to give this young _lady_—" The knife pressed just a little harder against the white skin and the girl's staring eyes opened even wider in a desperate, silent plea. Quinn laughed. "To give this little slut what she so richly deserves. So handy I managed to bump into her in the dark."

"You know I'm not going to do that." Remus thought that he had so few options, not helped by the fact that his hand felt frozen to his wand. The wand was a useless bluff anyway, whether Quinn knew that or not, and he was too far away and rapidly becoming too desperate.

_It wasn't as unbelievably cold as this before, was it?_

"And you know that I'll cut her throat before you can hit me with a spell. What's it to you anyway? She'd despise you if she knew what you were. Watch you starve before she lifted a finger to help." He cruelly pressed the knife so that the angle of the girl's head became even more acute, the tendons in her neck straining back. "And you're worried about her miserable little life?"

"I'm not going to let you blame this on the werewolves, bringing the Ministry down on them, and then _forcing_ them to have no other option than to join Voldemort."

Quinn smiled even wider, the pointed incisor teeth shining in the silvery light. "But I really like that plan. You've missed the first part of it already. Best of all, I like that I can't see how you can stop me carrying it out. Can you?"

"I don't think it will be me that does. Look behind you."

"Oh, _please_. Not that old one. How you disappoint me, Lupin. We werewolves pride ourselves on our initiative and cunning, and you really let the side down in so very many ways. Still, I'll humour you for one last time, and then you can watch me gut her."

He jammed his fist into the girl's mouth, cruelly flattening both a breast and her cry of terror as he did so, and turned them both slightly to enable him to glance backwards over his shoulder.

Remus clicked the Deluminator, with more hope than conviction, at exactly the same time as he heard the unmistakable _crack_ of someone Apparating close by.

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It was always hard afterwards to think about the exact sequence of events.

No matter how many times you Apparated, even when the feeling of being squeezed through time and space became second nature, there was always that one moment, those few seconds, as your eyes and mind had to become accustomed to light from dark, when you literally didn't know if up was down in the world any more.

Mad-Eye used to tell her to adjust, evaluate and …

_Act_.

Even if she'd never had to evaluate anything like this in her life.

She was looking at the scene sideways on. Nothing she could do with her wand.

_Evaluate_.

Quinn was staggering backwards, off-balance, dragging Collette with him. They were pursued, or so it seemed by a small ball of bluish light, which seemed to be heading straight for his eyes.

Remus was moving rapidly towards them, with his wand out, but the girl was in the way and they were both teetering desperately, Quinn's heel about to make contact with…

… _The grave_.

The knife snicked into Collette's skin and she cried out. Tonks saw the trickle of blood start down her throat as though in slow motion, at the same time as she saw that Quinn's eyes weren't even on the strange light but staring behind him.

She caught a glimpse of the ghostly, transparent figure too, but there was no time to think as his foot caught the edge of the stone, the knife tumbled uselessly out of his hand, and he and the girl started to fall together.

_Act_.

Instinct alone moved Tonks, spurred on by anger and fear. Quinn might deserve his fate but the girl didn't. She leapt forward and grabbed at the plump arm, feeling the smack of flesh on flesh, and then the terrible pull as the combined weight of their falling bodies pulled at her in turn.

Someone shouted at her.

She heard the voice, sharp and hoarse, heard "_Dora!_" and long hands she knew grabbed at her, dragging at her brutally.

"Get away, you fool!"

But the choice was no longer hers to make. She wrenched at the girl, shoving her away from both Quinn and the grave with all her might. And someone else was pulling frantically at both of them, she could feel the arm grasp her round the waist, and she thought, as she always did, that Remus was so much stronger than he looked.

_Was he strong enough?_

It seemed as if he was because as Quinn fell silently back, landing spread-eagled on the stone with his eyes open and still and staring at the sky, so the girl hit the grass alongside with a painful smack that knocked all the breath out of her lungs. But she was rolling sideways, wheezing, crying and, blessedly, rolling _away_.

Which left only her and Remus. She could feel them both throw their falling weight and everything they'd got to the right as one force, one being. Her shoulder hit the ground first, then her head thumped down with such brutality she cried out. But she was pulling with all her might still at Remus above her, and she curled her legs and her body round his and then they were both rolling.

Rolling on the grass. Away. They'd made it.

She was aware for one second of the look of disappointment in the transparent face that merged with the silvery light above her, and thought: _Take that, you vindictive bitch_.

She let her hand fall back relaxed against the earth and stone scraped against her fingers.

Just the very tips of her nails and skin.

_Oh, shit_.

It didn't matter anyway because Remus was safe. She hugged him to her as tightly as she could and felt his head, his unshaven cheek, resting against hers; their hearts, through all those jumpers, were thundering away together.

She wasn't too sure what happened next, except her head hurt so much the only sensible thing to do was close her eyes and let go of things for a while. She saw Remus' face, very intense and white; felt his body and weight lifting up off of hers. He seemed to nod at her, to make sure she knew it was him she was seeing, which was daft because of course she did. Then he turned away and somehow she knew he'd gone to do something very important, and had only reluctantly left her when he knew she was safe.

"Yes, that's right." She turned her head to see the tall, good-looking boy with the long black hair. It seemed he was real after all because he was looking down at her and smiling. She gripped her wand, just in case, but somehow she knew he wasn't dangerous.

_Merlin, he reminded her of someone. It was the cheekbones and the eyes_ …

"Don't worry," he said. "It's all as it should be now. As I meant it to be. She'll be happy now, too. We'll be together. You two will be as well. Not yet though, obviously."

"_Obviously_." She said it sarcastically, wondering what he was on about, and wishing he'd bugger off so her head could explode in peace.

"I'm glad it was you," he said, grey eyes glowing. "We have to put things right, don't we? And you being family and all. We all get a second chance, it seems." He laughed, a deep bark of a laugh.

_Oh God, how much had some of these Muggles had to drink?_

"Yeah," she said, humouring him. "Well, it's been nice chatting—"

"It has, Tonks." A final smile and the craziest idea ever came into her head, but it was really so utterly crazy she couldn't stay awake any longer to even entertain the notion for a second.

She closed her eyes and slept.

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He sat slowly down amongst the satin cushions and watched her sleep in front of the fire, curled up like a child with her legs tucked under her. The red and orange coals made patterns of flickering golden light on her skin, and her sleep seemed quiet and untroubled, as though the wariness and uncertainty had gone for now.

When morning came, she'd go back to Hogwarts and he'd return to the werewolf camp, and this would all be just another memory to hold onto and be grateful for. It was no longer his reality, or his life, but for just a little while he could still pretend it was.

The firelight had brought the life back to her hair, which lay across her cheek and was glowing with the colours of autumn.

He couldn't stop looking at it. Or her. Wondering how he could let her go again and knowing he must.

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She was stood at the top of the staircase and somehow knew she'd never dream this again. What was beyond the door was still a mystery as she saw only a light of molten pink gold, like the coming of dawn in the sky, but something somewhere had been resolved in her mind. Some doubt in her own judgement – a moment of wonder whether she really was 'Too young' to take on this – had been eradicated and it wasn't coming back.

And it was time to wake up.

She opened her eyes, and with no sense of surprise, found Remus sat watching her. His face was lined and drawn.

"Wotcher." She smiled at him sleepily, and then reality returned with a rush, and she struggled clumsily to sit up amongst her pile of soft and restricting cushions. "What's happened? Are you all right? The others?"

"Yes." He nodded but his eyes were very grave. "We took the Muggles back and I modified their memories a bit." He shrugged. "Hopefully left an element of fear there about coming this way again, though it's difficult to be precise with these things."

"Collette?"

"I had quite a lot to _Obliviate_ there but judging by the fact that she was last seen suggesting that, to save the evening from being a total write-off, they go to a club that is 'absolutely awesome and, like, _unreal_'" – Tonks snorted, and Remus smiled in return but it didn't reach his eyes – "I think she was bouncing back. I healed her neck, of course. It was only a small cut."

"I'm sorry I left it all to you." Tonks hesitated. So much to ask but she was afraid of the answers.

"How's your head?"

"It's fine." She shook it as proof and, amazingly, it was. "How long have I been asleep for?"

"Only a couple of hours. You gave it such a thump, I'm surprised you're awake at all."

"Tough skull." She looked at him, determined not to put it off any longer. "Quinn?"

"I … don't know." He added hastily at her look. "Oh, he's dead. I checked that before I even brought you in here. But I've no idea what killed him. I'd swear he was dead before he even hit the grave and there wasn't a mark on him—"

She interrupted. "Was that blue light I saw from the Deluminator?"

"Yes. It distracted him for just a second. Then he seemed to stumble - I just pressed it, more in hope than anything else, but I didn't know it could do anything like that. It let me get that vital bit closer to …" His voice trailed off and he looked away, swallowing.

She thought the missing words, the ones he couldn't say, were probably: _To get hold of you_.

Merlin, what he must have been through while she'd been snoring her stupid head off in here.

"The body's gone."

She didn't register what he'd said at first and stared at him for a second. "_Gone?_ Gone where?"

"I don't know. It was gone when I got back."

She was still staring at him. "And is that good news for us?"

"I think it is." His voice was very soft and cautious but it obviously wasn't this that was bothering him. "Something's changed out there. I can use magic now, and the mist has lifted, and – well, you can see the grave for yourself in the morning."

She thought this over for a minute as he pushed his hair tiredly back out of his eyes. "Did you bring me in here straight away?"

"Almost. Why?"

"Oh…" She gave an embarrassed laugh. "Just that for a second, I thought I caught a glimpse of Isabella – and that was even before I'd hit my head – and, worse than that, after I _had_, I could have sworn I had a conversation with someone who just maybe might have been … Marius Black. Telling me everything was hunky-dory and as it should be." She stopped. "Okay. You can laugh now."

But he was shaking his head. "I thought I caught a glimpse myself. Well, I thought I saw someone who looked a lot like Sirius, to be honest. But there was no one like that amongst the Muggles and no one else had seen him. There was a lot of mist out there, Tonks. Fire. Confusion. Not to mention it was pitch black."

"I _saw_ him." She didn't add that she felt strangely reassured by the words of an apparent ghost. The spell had been broken, after all.

"Perhaps we both saw him. The magic certainly seems to be fading in here as well; there's a lot less of those damn cushions lying about now." He smiled, which faded as quickly as it had appeared. "You didn't, did you?"

"Do what?"

He swallowed. "Touch the grave?"

"_No!_" She saw him visibly relax and demanded, "You didn't, either?"

"No." He shook his head firmly, looking straight back at her.

Silence.

She watched him as he looked at the fire, seeing the glow touch his face. She'd only loved him for a few short months, but it felt like a lifetime, and there were times she could follow his thought processes as though they were her own.

She looked at stiff, dark cuff of his jumper, near where his hand was fingering.

_"Remus_."

"It isn't mine." He'd turned his head slowly to look at her, and his voice was flat and emotionless as his hand moved away from the dried blood. "It's Randall's. Quinn or one of them killed him."

She stared at him, her eyes huge, and he said, "I presume they did it so he could take the blame for Collette's death. Give the Ministry a ready-made culprit. A corpse can't protest its innocence very convincingly, can it?" He added inconsequentially, "I was trying to teach him to read and write properly. He'd never been to a real school for long, you see."

For a moment she couldn't move and then she was crawling towards him on her hands and knees, sprawling and falling over the cushions and kicking them out the way. She caught hold of him and felt his arms go round her in a desperate grip.

She held his head against her as if he was a child and rocked them both. He shuddered once, then she felt him take a deep breath, and he lifted his head and looked up at her.

"It could have been you," he said.

"No."

"I saw him – saw what they'd done to him. And my first thought was that I didn't even care because it wasn't you."

"Remus." She strained him against her, his unshaven cheek rough against her skin.

"I won't let it happen to you."

"_Remus_. I'm right here. You're holding me! I—" She stared at him, struggling to find the words to reach him, and then decided that words weren't what either of them needed.

She bent her head and kissed him tenderly.

"No," he said against her lips, trying to turn his head away. "Not fair." But his arms were tight round her waist and she could feel him trembling with need for her and this was something else they'd always shared, right from the start.

"It's for me, as well. And that's fair," she said, and kissed him again, pulling him down to the cushioned floor with her.

His mouth closed on hers, blotting out thought. Hot, drugging kisses that were filled with want and need and _love_. She knew they were, and so were his hands as they stripped away her clothes and slid eagerly up from her hips, over the curve of her stomach to cover her breasts. So were his eyes as he looked at her, as if he'd found something he never dreamed of having, as if she were his whole world. And she felt the same as she touched him and kissed him and stroked him, and he half gasped, half laughed against her, and then made her softly moan against his skin in return.

Most of all it was in his voice. _"Dora._" Over and over again. "Dora, Dora, _Dora_." They made love face to face in the dark, and in the firelight, and with the scent of apples and nature filling the air around them. She told herself that it should be different, should _feel_ different, that there was too much hurt and anguish between them for this to be exactly as it was before. But the joy seemed even more intense as he filled her with a shudder of love and gasped her name once more against her lips.

He fell asleep as she held him in her arms, the sleep of one who'd seen and done too much that day, and she watched the flames, and thought that in the morning he'd leave her again and feel that he had no other choice. That he was doing it for her. And this time she'd let him go without argument or reproaches, because she knew now, after all this, that the heart had reasons that Reason, because it was so sensible and so very, very _limited_, didn't even know the first thing about.

It was Remus who wasn't yet old enough for this, not her.

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They barely spoke to each other in the morning. What was there to say, after all?

He'd woken to find them both entangled in each other under her cloak and his. He let himself run his hand down her spine for a final time, feeling her shiver as she stirred against him, and then realised that the brown hair against his cheek was damp.

The roof was leaking. The fire was gone, leaving only a pile of ashes and the faintest scent of apples lingering in the air.

The pavilion had vanished as they slept.

They dressed almost in silence; taking in the straw and the wooden boards and the holes and splinters between them.

"It's a barn," Tonks said, her dark eyes wide but there was no surprise in them.

"Perhaps this was how it was when they first met," Remus said, reaching for his jumper and passing hers to her as he buckled up his belt. "Before he thought he had to impress her."

Tonks wrinkled her nose. "No wonder they ran into trouble. Why didn't he know that he was all she wanted?"

Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before both looked away.

He showed her the grave as they stood outside in the sunshine and faint drizzle that met them. Showed her the new inscription which had replaced the old: _Now we rise and we are everywhere_.

"That's nice," she said, and smiled at him. There was a fraction more colour in her face this morning.

They walked slowly to the gate and turned to face each other. He gave her the Deluminator and told her to take it back because it had done everything it could and more.

Silence as he straightened his cloak and she picked at a thread in her jumper.

"Tonks, I—"

"No, don't say it. No point." She smiled a little too brightly and then said suddenly, "I know you're going to beat yourself up about last night and everything else the minute I'm gone, but just tell me the truth about one thing."

He could hardly bear to look at her, so brave and so determined, standing there in front of him. "Of course," he said, and heard the coldness in his voice, which was all that was holding back his fear and love.

"Tell me you don't regret last night. In there."

At least, he could tell her the truth there. "I should, for your sake … but, no." He managed to smile at her. "How could I, Dora?"

_Shouldn't have called her that. Not fair_.

"That's something then. You stay safe or else."

"And you."

She turned and walked away very quickly, almost before he'd expected her to, and he only just stopped himself calling after her. He made himself start to walk in the opposite direction, very fast as well, but it wasn't fast enough to avoid hearing the _crack_ of Apparation and know that she'd gone.

He stopped and turned around to stare at the trees and emptiness. Told himself this was the only choice left to him, to let her go and find a better life. If he ever had any doubts, he only had to remember the tale Lovel had excitedly told him of her collapsing as she tried to morph.

He should have known she wouldn't tell him the whole truth but would want to help. Whatever the cost and risk to herself. And it would always be like that; her being the one making sacrifices to be with him. He could dream all he liked, but the brutal reality was that their relationship was all take on his side and all submissive, self-effacing, _soul-destroying_ give on hers, and one day she'd come to hate him for it.

He wondered if they really had both seen Marius Black last night, if the curse was truly broken. When his foot just caught the edge of the grave he'd been looking at her face in front of him. Not that he needed to be told who the person was he would willingly give his life to save. That was something else to cling onto in the months ahead.

A slow breeze passed through the beech trees near him, one that rippled and carried into the distance, so that leaves and branches stirred all around. His eye was caught by the faintest movement in the distance by the grave and as he stared he thought for a moment that a familiar, tall, thin figure was shadowed in black leaning against the guardian tree. It stayed quite still for several seconds as though watching him and then waved what looked like a casual hand in equally familiar salute.

Remus hesitated, then smiled and raised his own hand in return.

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**More A/N: **Marius Black was blasted off the Black Family Tapestry for being a Squib, according to JKR's family tree. No other reason has ever been mentioned. ;)

The grave inscriptions were all invented by me, hence the dodgy rhymes, except for: _"Now we rise and we are everywhere."_ This is on the gravestone of Nick Drake, a singer/songwriter whose songs seem to be often referred to in R/T fan fic, perhaps because he once write a track called _Pink Moon._

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**_Reviewers get my thanks and a choice of a large glass of gin with Lucinda, who could probably tell you your future, or an emotional night in a barn with Remus, who's in need of a hug, and probably a gin as well! Hope you've enjoyed the story. :)_**


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